


Locked, Shocked and Barrel

by insaneprecious



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:26:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insaneprecious/pseuds/insaneprecious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events with Erin, Garrett finds himself in the process of a heist when it goes terribly wrong and is collected by a Watchman for the reward. Handed over to the Thief - Taker General and locked away in the Watch Station. He suffers at the hand of the General but during the long-drawn out punishment he encounters someone interesting residing in the cell beside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Did you hear Northcrest is back, since the Graven Dawn is gone?" A breathy, tenor voice lifted up through the holes in the rafters. Garrett crouched down as he took cautious steps, placing a hand just before the opening to the manor house hallway, eavesdropping on the idle conversation. 

"Didn't know he left." The other man, a Watchman, replied with slight boredom. He took more interest in a painting that hung beside the light switch. Garrett tutted, shifting his weight onto his other foot before crawling around, looking for a shadow to slip into unnoticed. He didn’t expect this part to be the more difficult part, but the Baron’s civil servant, Eider, must be afraid of the dark. A justified fear he imagined. The only problem was the cold light that drained the colour from the hall of rich reds, blues and grays and made the hall look suitable for a slaughterhouse, gave little no shadow to hide in.

"He left after they burnt his manor, read it in the paper-"

"Read it?! Oh, look who's special!" The other interrupted, shaking his head before he snorted. Garrett tuned out the mindless banter with his own thinking, placing each foot in front of the other with thoughtful and mindful delicacy, each step carefully planned to avoid the boards below him from squeaking. He found a small opening, the voices of the guards dying off as they continued down the hall. He sat slowly, hanging his feet through the hole and then letting his legs dangle before dropping through. 

He straightened, arms hanging by his sides, his hands clutching and unclutching themselves. His left hand had healed, or at least stopped bleeding shortly after Erin was rescued. The pain lingered, much like the effects of the Gloom on the people… but the disease had died with Orion. His mix-matched eyes scanned the area, the painting the guard was studying glowed blue, along with the men who lingered at the end of the hall, smoking idly and talking among themselves.

"That must be the painting Basso wants..." He muttered to himself, attention distracted by the sounds of heavy feet marching up from the other direction. He couldn’t move from his dark corner, both halls lit with the harsh electric powered lights. He pressed himself deep into the corner, hoping the heavy footed guard wouldn't notice him among the side table and bookshelf.

He swore under his breath, eyes narrowing as the man stopped just before him, glancing around. Garrett gripped at his black-jack prepared to use it, expecting a confrontation. However, he still tried hard to fit into the corner, his bow pressing into his back. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath, remaining stoic, much like a statue that was just part of the decor. The officer placed his hands on his hips as he glanced down the lit hall the others had walked down, opposite to where the painting was. The guards who wandered managed to leave their patrol unnoticed until this very moment. He could almost feel the fury burning in the man before him the strong stench of alcohol and sweat slowly becoming more prominent as anger grew. The stench reached up Garrett’s nostrils causing him turn his head away, his eyes locked on the painting. His mind racing on how to escape his predicament.

"Jollens, Barzen! Did I order you to go for a stroll?!" The voice boomed down the hall, Garrett started at the sudden loudness, his eyes cutting towards the man’s face then pockets; he lifted the flap and stole the few coins from their pouch. It wasn’t much of a challenge as the huge man was distracted by the white faced, lazy guards. He slipped past the officer unnoticed, the two younger guards not daring to take their eyes off their superior. He swiftly bolted towards the light switch, glancing over towards the Watchmen. One of them noticed as the lights flickered before they reluctantly died out.

“S-sir?” Garrett grabbed his razor, making fast work of the seam of the painting.

“Do you not know any respect when you’re superior is talking?!” The voice became louder, as though the man stood beside the small, sturdy thief.

“N-no, sir… The lights.” He gestured. The officer’s feet scuffed against the rug as he turned, meeting a dark hall, his eyes darting and scowling. “Who’s there?” Garrett slipped the razor back into its holding place on his body, rolling the painting up and strapping the canvas onto his back. He glanced quickly behind himself again; the sound of feet marching closer to him matched his heart. He scanned the surroundings; the ceiling was too high to climb back through, even with the claw. His only choice was to continue down the hall, but further down more lights filled the hall with cold light, there was no switch nearby either.

“The Baron’s progress really isn’t ideal…” He began his run as the officer turned the lights back on. The flickering finally gave way to bright, clarity. He was visible, detected and caught.

“Fucking taffer! GET THE BLACKHAND!” The officer screamed. Garrett could hear the sound of swords being unsheathed, six heavy feet running after him. He was faster though, swifter… until his foot stepped on a piece of floor that sunk down. The primal flashed in his eyes as the hall floor glowed red and with a click darts flew towards him. One sliced across his nose, another went through his hood, pinning the top to the wall. He imaged the other few had trapped his cloak.

The Watch stepped short of the trap, the officer laughing hoarsely. 

“Look at this, stuck to the wall.” A grin graced his cracked lips; Garrett tilted his head in his direction, his eyes barely visible behind the hood.

“Jollens, go around and disarm the trap. This is the thief the General was after; I’d like to be paid a decent wage for once.”

Garrett could feel the warm, sticky liquid rolling down his nose. He lifted a finer to wipe the drip from his nose. Barzen and his superior kept watch of him, he could feel their eyes on the back of his head. Almost seeming to size him up,

“He’s not very big, sir.” Barzen was the one who could read, he recognized the voice. Garret’s face fell as the others response,  
“Not much bigger than a little girl.” The officer chuckled harshly, sheathing his sword again. Garrett knew of a couple vicious little girls, or at least one that stuck out in his mind, but he supposed she wasn’t so much little anymore. His eyes scanned the hall; the trap went the full length, Master Eider, the propagandist, really was as paranoid as the rumours went. He wouldn’t be surprised if Eastwick had created the traps for Eider much like he did for the Baron.

He reached up for the dart in his hood, pulling it out as the weight in his feet shifted onto his toes. He bolted, much to the surprise of the guards who just watched wide eyed as darts flew towards the thief, a couple grazed his bicep and legs. As he ran his hood fell down from his head, revealing short, cropped, black hair. 

“QUICK! AFTER HIM!”

He threw himself over the railing onto the landing of the steps. He flinched as a bolt landed beside his head. Of course there would be an archer amongst the light filled manor. He ran down the steps attempting and failing to reach the door. A crate was pushed off the railing, hitting him square on the back; he collapsed the brightness fading into darkness. Splintered wood surrounding his body as everything seemed to twist into a mess of washed-out colours, speckles and bright flashes. 

“How much is he worth, Jollens?”

“Five thousand, sir.”

The officer whistled, “Five thousand. Aren’t you a catch?”

***

“Checkmate.” Basso chuckled as placed his knight down. The Queen of Beggars frowned, her king surrounded.

“I’m afraid you’ve won, Basso.” The fat man in front of her smirked, and collected the pieces off the board and placed them back in their respective spots on the ancient board. His eyes trailed to the rats that scampered through the doorway and in from the window Garrett always snuck through. After all this time he still couldn’t use a door. 

A rat crawled up the Queen’s arm as she bent down to stroke its head. It scurried up and around her shoulder, resting on the other. Basso raised an eyebrow at the sight of the creature,

“You’ve seen much of Garrett.” The elderly woman met eyes with him; he took a sip of his wine and shrugged.

“There are a lot of jobs. Since the upheaval, a lot of clients come looking for some fences. The Black-Tax is strangling us entrepreneurs though, even harder since last month.” His head jerked towards the magpie who squawked at the thin, scrawny man who stepped into the light of the small, cluttered room. 

The Queen of Beggars nodded in response to Basso’s comment, “I’m afraid our Master Thief is in trouble,” She paused placing her pawn down, “Speak freely, Len.” 

Basso’s upper lip twitched as he shook his head, all the rats and beggars making their entrance, he was reluctant to admit it still unsettled him. All the same though, his attention was struck with her comment that Garrett was in trouble, he was just sent to steal a painting. Good old Master Eider must be much more paranoid than the rumours let on.

“The watch caught a thief at Eider Manor in Cinderfall, one of the officers caught him… and took him to the Thief - Taker, ma’am.” 

“Shit, Garrett…” Basso mumbled under his breath, the Queen lifted herself out of her chair, 

“Thank you, Len. I could feel a sudden shift in the balance.”

“He’s not dead, is he?!” Basso exclaimed, if Garrett was able to survive all the shit with Erin, he had to survive a simple heist for a God-damned painting! 

“No… only clouded… we fear the worst if the General has him.”

Basso narrowed his eyes, downing the last of his drink. He didn’t want to think of Harlan, he had seen him only a week prior doing his rounds collecting the Blacktax. He was surprised he wasn’t thrown into a cell again, since he worked with the most wanted man in The City. It’s not like they had The Keep anymore anyway… He sighed,

“Fuck…”


	2. Chapter 2

Garrett’s eyes opened slowly, his vision blurred and the primal fading in and out as the black dots in his vision faded into something close to clear apparitions. His head ached, alongside with his spine. He felt his feet drag down the stone flooring, two strong arms looped under his armpits dragging him like he was a sack of potatoes. He tried to jerk his arms loose; they were stuck behind him, shackled together. It hurt his pride; a stupid drunken officer had caught him and was going to earn the reward… just another thing to be used and thrown away. Humiliating.

He yelped as he was thrown on the flooring of his cell, groaning as his head cracked against the stone. He closed his eyes against the throbbing in his brain, squirming to get his arms freed, the clank of metal against stone furthered his suspicion that he was going to be stuck here a while. 

“Well isn’t it the Master Thief.” The slimy voice fell onto Garrett’s ears; he clenched his jaw at the sound of the cane and the stomp followed by a slide of a false leg. A filthy chuckle resonated against the walls of the cell. He didn’t bother to open his eyes, forcing down the pain that ached every inch of his body. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this moment,” He hooked the end of his cane through the chains of the shackles, his head glancing sideways towards one of the blacktops. 

“Who found him?”

“Officer Gustaf Hellose, Sir. He was caught stealing a painting from Master Eider.” The blacktop watched the thief curled up on the floor, before bowing his head to the General and making his leave.

“Hellose made a good decision bringing you here.” He knelt down beside the smaller man taking a fist full of the short hair hauling him up into a crouched, sitting position. He yanked his body to face him, a thin, sour smile working its way across his face. Garrett scowled at him, trying to adjust his position to relieve the pull on his scalp.

“It’ll be my pleasure to snap that little neck of yours,” One of the hands gripped Garrett’s throat, the thief’s eyes only widened as pressure increased. He gagged, jerking his arms and then his body away from the general. That earned him a swift smack in the face with the cane, sending him reeling. Harlan straightened, a deep chuckle turning into a shallow cough,

“I think I’d rather enjoy your presence here though, for a little while.” His smirk only grew at the angry glare that he received from the thief. He signalled to the guards who stood nearby. They rushed over,

“Break his hands and strip him. We don’t want the filthy rat escaping, I’ll see to him in the morning.” With that he turned on his heel, dragging his other leg behind him. He left the two Watchmen in the cell with the thief. Neither of them looked as though they were willing to be friendly, but then again when were they ever.

Garrett pulled himself into a crouch before standing; the guards didn’t seem fazed watching the thief with mild curiosity and amusement.

“Addams, watch the door!” One called to the Blacktop as he shut the cell door with a slam. Garrett managed to grab his lock picks from his sleeve trying to make hasty work of the locked shackles, it wasn’t working. His eyes locked evenly with the other men dodging a blow that came from his head, swiping the feet out from the guard. A loud thud reverberated and echoed against the walls. Garrett ran from the other guard, trying desperately to get the shackles unlocked.

“There’s nowhere to go, taffer!” The Watch kicked him square in the spine, 

“GAH!” His eyes widened, falling to one knee. He felt one of the shackles come loose, he grabbed for his blackjack, and he raised his arm receiving a sword through the forearm before he could bring it down upon the man’s head, who was scrambling to get up. His eyes widened as he recoiled, clutching the bleeding arm to his body.

“If you cooperate this will be over quickly. If not, more than those pretty hands of yours will be broken.” He just glowered at him; he had nothing to say. He allowed himself to resign to the torture, knowing any struggle was in vain. He permitted one of them to grab him by the hair and smash his skull into the stone wall. He grunted, trying to swallow muffled whines as his arms were jerked behind him.

“Stop snivelling.” The one who held his arms ground out through clenched teeth. Garrett screamed as a heavy boot smashed against his hand. He felt something pop, he pressed his forehead against the cool stone as it continued. The cracking and snapping was audible in both hands. The pain seared through his body like fire. He refused to make further noise; it was awful already having his livelihood snapped. The following process was worse…

He was thrown on his back; he struggled as they tried to pry his outfit off.

“STOP!” He shouted at them. A heavy boot just planted a hard kick to the side of his head, jerking his body with it. His body was dazed, his vision faded in and out again. He doubted his body could take anymore blows to the head anymore, let alone anywhere else to his body. The pain only got worse, each time his body was lifted as they pulled his attire off leaving him in his breaches on the cold stone flooring. 

“Have a good night.” The last watchman laughed coolly, slamming the door and locking it. Garrett just stared at his hands; every inch was black and blue, beginning to swell. He couldn’t feel anything besides pain. His right hand was numb, the blood pouring out onto the floor before ever reaching the appendage. 

He wondered if this was actually the last thing he would see, the cold cell and the General’s charming face before death. He should’ve killed him in the rotunda, he had the opportunity. He groaned, bringing his arms to his chest and then his knees. Oh God… everything fucking hurt… this was the last time he was ever going into a paranoid politician’s manor again. That was if he ever got out of here. 

His eyes lifted at the sight of a rat that scampered out from a hole in the wall,

“Did she send you…?” He murmured, the rat watched him, before scampering away back into its home. He moaned, burying his face in his chest, trying to sleep through the pain despite the loathsome idea of waking to the General’s raunchy voice and irritating whistling. He pulled his forearm into his body; the sticking liquid was warm against his chilled skin and the damp air of the cell.


	3. Chapter 3

Garrett woke at dawn, his body fighting against the sudden change in his sleeping ritual. The pain and noise of the jail had woken him. He also missed the sound of the soft, humming gears of the clock tower. He stood, his limbs shaking slightly, bare feet feeling the cold, wet stone beneath him. His silent step didn’t give him away however as he peeked through the barred window of his cell. Arms hung almost lifelessly from his shoulders, his swollen hands every once in a while brushing against his thigh. The bleeding in his forearm had ceased, but he couldn’t feel anything from below the wound. He had to distract himself from thinking about it, if he dared to think of the consequences of such a wound he would be in the least distraught.

His eyes met with a trunk of goods, one of the Watchmen had his feet rested on the top, leaning back in his chair. His attention was drawn to the ceiling; the single light in the space shook and swung as footsteps marched about upstairs.

“That must be where they hid my gear…” He noted the lock on the trunk. The lock would have to be picked, but first he would have to get the watch key. It hung off of the guard’s belt, and he knew that any attempt at stealing that in his condition would be futile. He had lost control; they had him now and it grinded against his nerves. He slid down against the door as a pair of feet walked into the space just outside. He hadn’t counted the amount of cells in this particular area but he was in the center, able to see the gate opposite to escape.

“Get up; the General is arriving any second!” Garrett’s body seized at the new information. He shuffled over to the far corner, the darkest corner he could find where the light from outside barely penetrated. He rested his head back against the stone, pulling his knees as close as they would go into his chest; he rested his chin on top of him, his only good arm, wrapped around his strong calves.

The sound of feet falling to the ground and the sound of clothes moving told him the guard who was lazing had stood.

“Relax; he’s got his little Sneak Thief.” The man sniffled and coughed.

“Oh! That was all well and wonderful last night; he’s bloody pissed this morning!” The man spoke in a hushed, almost panicked nature.

“Bad night?” The guard hauled the chair his was previously sprawled out in, against the wall, the legs scraped against the floor.

“Madame Xiao Xiao had him removed from The House of Blossoms, not only that but his missus found out about his sleeping around.” The guard who spoke, kept glancing over his shoulder, a sense of alertness about him. His expression turned amused as the other man laughed, 

“He got fucking black listed? From a brothel? Guttershite!” The laugh grew louder,

“Shush! If he figures we know it’ll be more than our jobs one the line.” The other shrugged, gesturing to the locked cell of the thief.

“Eh, he’s going to have a harder time. Wouldn’t surprise me if we end up snapping his neck this mornin’.”

“Nah, too quick. I bet you weeks end he’ll be gone though.” 

Garrett shut his eyes against the renewed throbbing in his head and the recent revelation. He was going to have to find a way out before weeks end, or even earlier. The earlier the better anyhow, he just had to get out. 

He just didn’t know how…

***

“Basso, where’s Garrett?” Basso jumped, grabbing the wine bottle off of his table and turning sharply. He didn’t believe he heard the voice he thought he did. It couldn’t be… neither him nor Garrett have heard anything since the incident.

“E-Erin?” He stammered, eyes studying the slender frame, short dark hair and the dark make-up around her eyes. She was dressed as though she was ready for a job, but it was just first dawn. There was nothing to do until sunset, and even then he knew that the jobs he had were claimed by somebody else. Whenever he got out of prison,

“How have you been, Erin?” He placed the wine bottle back onto the table, wiping his hands off, “Long time no see.” 

She watched him, “I’ve been fine. Where’s Garrett?”

Basso shrugged, non-chalantly, “The Watch Station, supposedly.” He watched her expression; the frustration fell from it, leading into something close to concern. She stood, watching him. He shook his head stroking the head on his new magpie; it rubbed its head against his pudgy fingers. It’s cool, black eyes pierced into Erin’s. She had to look away.

“What do you mean he’s at the Watch Station? Isn’t he supposed to be too good to be caught?” Basso’s eyes cut to hers,

“Well, he ain’t here or his tower. Even if he was in the tower, you wouldn’t be going up it now. The man likes his sleep.” Basso was surprised by the malice in his own voice. He wasn’t angry with the girl, but he sided with Garrett’s end of the story… he had heard about what happened in the old cathedral and Orion’s ship. It certainly didn’t seem like a walk in the part, and he wasn’t even going to bother figuring out Erin’s mixed messages throughout the entire thing.

Erin remained silent, one of the first times Basso had heard her speechless. He sifted through his papers,  
“I’ll tell you something though,” He coughed; the sounds of shuffling upstairs attracted Erin’s attention, before she set her gaze back on Basso, “How about you go helped our Master Thief, just like helped you. Then you two may be on equal terms to talk.”

Erin chewed her lip, she wasn’t here for a job… she just wanted to figure out where Garrett was. She had to speak with him, it was important. But he would be no use to her dead and he had a point. Garrett wouldn’t have much to say to her. 

“Fine.” Basso smiled at her,

“The Thief – Taker will be present though, I’d be careful if I was you. Try to follow Garrett’s advice for once in your life.” Erin made a face at him, he chuckled. She hadn’t noticed a small smile breaking out across her face,

“It’s nice to see you again, Basso.”

“Be careful.” He coughed, flopping down into his wooden chair. Erin snuck out through the door; she would have to wait until night to hunt down the all wonderful “Master Thief”. She looked forward to this; at least she would have a piece in this game now. Maybe he would be brought down a peg, after she saves him he’d have to take her at least partially seriously. It was his fault the entire mess at Northcrest’s manor occurred anyway, if only he hadn’t stolen the claw.

***  
Garrett was thrown back into his cell, blood dripping down his face. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, again, everything ached. The General had beaten him with such vigor he didn’t even know when old pain lingered and new began. His body shook with rigor, and perspiration rolled down his forehead as if the bruising were just part of a disease. A disease his body tried to fight against. 

He slumped down, back in his dark corner, away from the prying eyes of guards who looked in, snickered or sighed, most disappointed that they couldn’t find him. The flare of primal from his eye as he focussed on breathing and not fading out, scared one. The cry and scuttle away caused great amusement among the other guards. 

A light flickered from a crack in the wall, his head leaned against. It led into the other cell, he furrowed his brow but his vision disappeared as he collapsed onto the floor before he could comprehend the warm light of flames.

A young girl’s voice sang from peephole, “Pretty poppies for the ghosts…”


	4. Chapter 4

White hair, translucent eyes and a curious expression painted the face of the girl of poppies. She hunkered over a small candle, blowing out the flame and relighting it allowing the warm, flickering light to reflect off white skin allowing her body to appear glowing, sparkling. As if she was a ghost herself. A dark, blood coloured scarf was wrapped delicately around her head, the tattered strands fell over her should as if the fabric was bleeding, streaming down the white dress like a wound punctured through her skull. 

She paused in her mindless continuation of light, blowing and relighting the poor candle in front of her. She glanced towards the wall in front of her, crawling on hands and feet towards the small peephole. She tilted her head, brow furrowing towards the thief who lay motionless on the floor, with the exception of the shallow breathing that gradually turned into shuddered breaths before falling back into something monotonous.

“Hello?” She poked a finger through the peephole, trying to see if she could make the hole any larger. Anemia encompassed the area around his eyes, dying the white skin red, her fingers purple and knuckles almost transparent. She peeked back in, he hadn’t moved an inch. She frowned standing from her crouched position, she peeked her eyes above the bars of the door that locked her in. She couldn’t just see above it, standing delicately on her tippy-toes. 

The red-haired, balding, greasy man lumbered about the jail. Every time he would pass the guard standing at attention the man would gain a swift smack with the cane. A second if he flinched and a third if he dared yelp in pain. She watched curiously, when the man did scream in pain, the cane hitting him swiftly between his legs, a rustle was heard next door. She ducked back down as the General looked towards her direction.

The sound of a body collapsing and an uneven step of the General signified the prisoners were alone for a while. Garrett groaned as he pulled himself into a sitting position, a hand clutching at his skull. He felt very sick, but he had nothing to come up, the last time he ate was a few night ago. He squeezed his eyes shut against the intense pain behind his eyes, running a hand through his hair. The small shimmer of light coming from the peephole caught his attention though. Despite the growing pain as he got closer to the light, he pressed his eyes against it.

He started, falling back at the sight of the girl at the other end, her own eye pressed against the hole.

“Careful.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. In fact her eyes seemed faintly familiar as well, something uncanny about her manner. He frowned,

“Who are you?”

“Betony, and you?”

“Garrett.” He managed to groan out. He could still feel her eyes on him, like a parasite, she kept her hold on him. Her eyes refusing to move away from his lean figure.   
“You have the primal.” She giggled at his quick glare then gentle raise of his hand, covering his eye. She was the second one to point it out; Northcrest had done so at his manor before he sent Garrett off to face the Graven. He looked away from her, pushing back into his dark corner. He was able to hear her breathing, but she couldn’t see him anymore. His sense of unease dissolved slowly at the sound of her disappointed sigh. 

“You aren’t even a little interested over how I know about it?”

“No.” He leaned his head against the stone, closing his eyes. It was quiet.

“Why don’t you escape?” She eyed the barred door, she was met with silence. She sighed, 

“The General has left to the upper part of the jail… the guard is incapacitated. When they come to get you again steal the key from his belt. 

“My hands hurt.” He murmured. He was surprised at the silence that he had just realized after her comment. He pulled himself up; he stepped toward the door and looked out. The guard was hunched over a table, a hand at his crotch another at the side of his head. Blood dripped from his skull and he whimpered. The sound was similar to the inmates at Moira, or their illusions. Ghosts… His mouth twisted into a smirk at the sight of the key that hung from the man’s waist.

He turned his head towards the peephole again; the dim light from the room beside him had disappeared, a look of confusion graced his scarred and bruised pale face. He fell into a painful crouch; he pressed his eye against the hole again. The room was dark; any sign of life had vanished.

“Huh… okay…” He furrowed his brow, falling back into his corner. “I’m worse off than I thought…”

***  
Basso stepped over the crumbling stone, entering down the stairs into the chilly space under the chapel. The magpie squawked, flaying off its perch on Basso’s shoulder over towards the chair where the Queen of Beggars sat. 

“Any news of Garrett?” Her faded eyes gazed in Basso’s direction. He shook his head somberly,

“No… I had quite the surprise this morning though.”

“Oh?” She reached over to the tea pot, pouring its contents delicately into a floral, porcelain cup. Her hand shook slightly as she lifted its saucer handing it to Basso. He took it and stared at the warm, brown liquid inside. It smelled wonderful, as if it had actual flower in the brew, a rare smell in the shithole of a city. He took a sip, warming his damp and cold body.

“Yeah, Erin came looking for Garrett. The little night-owl actually came into the light, can’t even get Garrett so much as to step into lamp light.” He chuckled taking a seat across from the older woman, placing the cup down on the table in front of him.  
The expression on the older woman was mixed between intrigue, concern and disbelief. Basso could tell from the way her eyes set in front of her, her purple lips remained pressed into a straight line. She raised her eyes to meet his again,

“How is she?” Basso shrugged again,

“Seems fine. Same old Erin. A little thinner, maybe a little more careful. She’s as spiteful and restless as always. She was determined to speak to Garrett, at such a ridiculous hour to, for him anyway.” He rambled off the facts picking at the bandages on his fingers.

“Did she say why she needed to speak with him?” Her head tilted, sipping her tea. A beggar shifted in the corner, coughing and groaning. The aroma of wet stone, dust and mildew filled the room, blocking the senses. He shook his head again,

“Said it was important. I sent her to retrieve him. He won’t like it, but he’s no use to either of us dead.” The magpie squawked again, flapping its wings as a rat crawled up beside it.

“Hey! Behave!” Basso snapped at the bird, it flew over towards him, perching back on his shoulder. The rat crawling into the Queen’s shawl, chattering at the bird before it disappeared under the layers of clothing.

The Queen was silent for a moment; she leaned into her hand, covering her mouth as she thought,

“I believe she’s trying to mend the relationship. They’ll never see eye to eye, but perhaps they’ll get passed the accident at the manor.” Basso grabbed the tea cup again, drinking its contents. 

“I hope so, it won’t be good business having employees fucking pissed. Excuse the language.” He smiled wearily, placing the cup back down. The Queen didn’t seem fazed. 

“Well, what will happen will happen. I have faith they’ll both get out alive.” Basso stood, coughing into the rag he pulled out of his pocket before stuffing it back. The beggar in the corner watched him quietly, yellowed eyes faded from hunger. He stepped over, placing a couple coin in the man’s hand.

“I have to go, got a pretty fancy client coming. Wants a message delivered in Auldale.”

The Queen nodded, “It was nice seeing you Basso. Next time we shall play more chess.” He smirked,

“Yeah, yeah.”

***  
Erin climbed over a bundle of crates, reaching up onto the roof before pulling herself up. She hissed as a shingle slide down the room, smashing onto the cobbled street below. She had almost slipped when it moved under her hand, so now she hung by his elbows trying to catch her breath. She hauled herself up, glancing down to the guards who went to investigate the noise below. She stood, planting her feet fully on the slate roofing. She could see the watch station, it wasn’t too far. Getting in was going to be the hard part though.


End file.
